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3 February 2013

In Search of the 'Hamilla Mitchell'

Every historian has lingering amongst
their files and papers intriguing half-followed-up leads. These curious notes
or stray references which get jotted down may never be fully explored because
they diverge too far from our main research projects or there just isn’t enough
time. Occasionally though the sense of intrigue is too much and the researcher
is tempted from the path – often it’s a wild goose chase which amounts to
nothing, but sometimes it’s these irresistible tangents which make ‘doing history’ so interesting. And, I
have to admit, I’m forever wandering off on tangents.

When buried deep in ‘research-mode’
the historian needs to keep a clear head and an open eye. Half the fun of
research is following up on obscure footnotes. We lose ourselves in the library
or archive pursuing our particular path, but often we hit dead ends. Developing
a nose for pursuing hunches can sometimes unearth unexpected connections. Thinking
laterally is essential. But sheer fluke or chance can sometimes play its part
too. I had just such a chance encounter this week. I was idly perusing an old
book when a familiar ship unexpectedly strayed into view – literally – because
this was a ship I’d sailed upon, so to speak, in another completely unrelated
book. But, like all good sea tales, if I’m to tell this one properly, I’ll need
to start at the beginning.

Last summer I wrote a paper for the
Journal of The Royal Asiatic Society China in Shanghai – entitled: Books of Change: A Western Family’s Writings on China, 1855-1949. The paper looks at three generations of the
Williamson-King families, each of which had a number of writers who published
works on their life and times in China in the late 19th and early 20th
centuries. The first writer from this line which my article examines is the
Rev. Alexander Williamson (1829-1890). Williamson was a prominent Scottish missionary
working in China, perhaps best known for his two volume Journeys in North China, Manchuria, and Eastern Mongolia, with some account of Corea(Smith, Elder & Co.: 1870) – an amazingly detailed
account of his travels as one of the first foreigners to be permitted to travel
in China after the first Opium War. The two volumes note in (sometimes
stupefying) detail points of scientific and economic interest concerning the
mineral and botanical resources of the provinces he travelled through, as well
as descriptions of the people he met and the towns he stayed in whilst
preaching and distributing Christian literature (in Chinese translation) along
the way – it’s a monumental travelogue/geographical gazetteer of late Qing
China.

When
Williamson first travelled to China in 1855 he kept a diary of the voyage. He
and his wife, travelling in company with fellow missionary Griffith John
(1831-1912) and his wife, took passage on a small wooden sailing ship called
the Hamilla Mitchell. Built in 1850,
the 540 ton ship took four months to sail from London to Shanghai via the Cape
of Good Hope. On the whole the diary (which was published in 1936 by
Williamson’s son-in-law, Paul King) describes a voyage in which Williamson
shows his keen interest in the workings of the natural world as well as his
religious piety. There’s a glimpse of his lighter side too as he describes some
of the inconvenient amusements of life on-board:

“What would you think if your seat were to
take it into its head to walk away to the other side of the room without a
moment’s notice while you were busily engaged at your desk? And then repenting
of its evil deed to return as unceremoniously?”

It must have been a hard and tiring journey on such a small ship. And
the unpleasantness only seemed to increase – the Captain’s ability to command
his vessel became more and more erratic as the ship progressed further and
further from home. The Captain’s fondness for the bottle appeared to grow in
equal measure with the lengthening distance. But happily, after a few bumps and
scrapes, the Williamsons reached Shanghai in one piece and put to shore for a
new life in China.

Having written and submitted my paper I thought no more of the Hamilla Mitchell until to my amazement
she seemed to hove into view once again, like a long lost ghost of the past
emerging from the mist, this time on the pages of another venerable old tome.
The book in question – which has nothing to do with my China researches – (bought
on a mere whim for a couple of quid from a second-hand bookshop I happened to
stray into during a lunchtime stroll earlier this week) is titled The Wonders of Salvage (The Bodley Head:
1924) by David Masters. Masters, who was previously unknown to me, appears to
have been a fairly prolific writer of books concerned with deep sea diving –
the lead boots and copper helmet with air hose kind of diving (you can read
more about him and his books here and here). The Wonders of Salvage tells various stories of deep sea diving
quests for sunken treasure, salvaging bullion from wrecks thought lost by their
underwriters, or valiant tales of raising ships torpedoed during the Great War.
To my astonishment I found that several pages of the book are devoted to the Hamilla Mitchell.

Here is Masters’ highly
engaging account of the salvaging of the Hamilla
Mitchell in full:

Thrilling as were these treasure-hunts, the
most romantic story of all is that of the ‘Hamilla Mitchell.’ Here we have
treasure and pirates and a desperate chase all mixed up in the most approved
adventure-story style. Only, unlike a work of fiction, this story happens to be
true.

The
‘Hamilla Mitchell’ came to grief on the Leuconna Rock, near Shanghai, and
carried down with her £50,000 of specie. She was a total loss, and the
underwriters, after paying the insurance, considered the question of trying to
salve the treasure. They instructed an expert to visit the scene and report on the
case. The expert in due course considered that the case was hopeless, that the
specie was lost for all time, and that the wreck had gone down in such deep
water in so exposed a position that it was much too dangerous for divers to
work there – not a very cheerful report for the underwriters to receive.

There,
for a time, the matter rested. Then upon the scene came a Captain Lodge with an
offer to do his best to recover the treasure. The underwriters, unwilling to
allow the specie of which they were the owners to remain at the bottom of the
sea, agreed gladly to the proposal that was placed before them. Captain Lodge
considered the problem most profoundly. He knew that what was lost would not be
won back easily, that the odds were, indeed, very much against a single ounce
of the precious metal ever again seeing the light of day. This did not dismay
him. Securing the services of two clever divers, named Ridyard and Penk, he
made the trip to Shanghai, taking out with him some special diving apparatus –
the finest and most powerful equipment to be found in the world.

He
wandered about Shanghai looking for a vessel that would suit his purpose, and,
coming across a small sailing craft, chartered her and proceeded on his quest
for the wreck. Small as was the salvage vessel, she was yet too large to take
in-shore among the high rocks, and so the divers had to prosecute their search
from the small boat which they towed behind. They searched here, they searched
there, dropping over the side of the boat in their cumbersome dress, facing all
the unknown perils of the unknown depths. Now they were carefully exploring a
ledge perhaps only 20 feet deep, and a little later they would be slipping down
the face of a chasm that plunged sheer into the sea for another 100 feet or
more. They did not spare themselves in that search, for at times they
penetrated to a depth of 160 feet.

They
were investigating a ledge one day when a dark mass loomed up at one end. They
approached it, to find the wreck at last, noting with satisfaction that it was
in a comparatively shallow depth which made the prospect of salvage fairly
easy. Their jubilation was cut short, however, as they drew nigh. It was the
stern that held the treasure, and the stern was missing!

Fate
had once more been up to her tricks. The ‘Hamilla Mitchell’ had settled with
her stern over-hanging deep water. Not for long did she remain intact, for the
gales soon broke off the unsupported after end, which slipped off the ledge
into the abyss, where the divers managed to locate it in 156 feet of water.

The
never-ending lines of bubbles from their outlet valves flowed upward to the
surface as they slowly explored the stern and prepared for their assault on the
treasure-room. It was a most dangerous as well as a most difficult task to work
in that treacherous chasm. The currents were strong, the rocks were sharp, and
the possibilities of air lines being cut or fatally fouled were not pleasant to
dwell upon. Nevertheless, they stuck to their task and eventually Ridyard
managed to break a way into the strong room.

The
sight which met his eyes as he gazed through the windows of his copper helmet
was like a scene from some fairy tale. The light, filtering through to that
great depth, enveloped the hold in a sort of twilight gloom, all over the place
he dimly saw heaps of dollars scattered about. He stooped down to the treasure
chests, to find woodboring worms had eaten many of them quite away and the
contents of the boxes were spilled in all directions. He walked about on a
floor of solid gold; golden coins slipped about under his leaden soles.

Anything
more romantic would not be easy to find, yet the romance did not appeal to
Ridyard. He was working against time, knowing that he would not be able to
stand the pressure for long. Every movement was slow and difficult. The water
was striving to crush him; he was being saved from this terrible fate solely by
the continual flow of air coming down the rubber pipe to his helmet.

Four
times Ridyard underwent that ordeal of getting into the treasure-room and
working under the enormous pressure until he was quite exhausted. On the last
occasion he surpassed his previous feats of endurance and struggled doggedly
on, loading up the treasure and watching it disappear towards the surface until
he had sent up the contents of sixty-four boxes.

Strong
and fit as he was, he became thoroughly worn out with the toil, so he signalled
to those above and made his way slowly to the surface. They dragged him to the
deck of the salvage craft and unscrewed his helmet. His face was lined, his
eyes were very tired, and his body clamoured for moisture, although he had been
immersed in it for a long time. Not a glance did he give to the treasure lying
about, the fortune at his feet did not interest him.

“Give
me a drink,” he said. “I’m dying for a drink of water.”

Penk
nipped up a bucket and made his way to a spring at the top of the island under
which they were working. Putting down his bucket to fill, he scanned the
horizon, as sailormen will. A sudden amazement came over him. The sea was
dotted with sails, all making in the direction of the island.

Wasting
no time, he picked up his precious pail of water and ran down to the ship.

Taking
his glasses, Captain Lodge quickly identified the oncoming ships as the junks
of Chinese pirates who were making their way towards the island from the
farther side to avoid being seen. There was no doubt in his mind what they were
after. There was but one thing in that quarter worth having, and that was the
treasure stored in the salvage craft. It was obvious that the pirates had been
watching operations carefully. They had undoubtedly planned to allow the divers
to recover the treasure, then they purposed stealing down upon the expedition
unawares, wiping it out and looting the gold.

The
pirates were in overwhelming numbers, and Captain Lodge realized instantly that
the only thing to do was to run for it. Slipping the anchor to save the time
required to haul it up, the salvors hoisted sail. Gradually they gathered way
and stole from under the cover of the island. Directly the salvage craft
appeared in the open, the junks altered course and started to pursue her.

Pity
the poor salvors! The wind had practically failed them, yet they could see some
of the junks bending to a lucky breeze and overhauling them. In desperation
they put out the big sweeps and toiled like galley-slaves to force their craft
through the water. Ridyard, tired as he was, took his turn at the oars to try
to save the treasure he had salved at such risk. So the salvage boat crept
along, with the pirates slowly gaining.

More
exciting grew the chase. With anxious eyes the salvors watched the distance
between their own craft and the Chinese junks growing gradually less. Harder
than ever they strained at the oars, dipping them into the sea, throwing all
their weight upon them, pulling until the muscles of their arms ached and their
backs were nearly breaking.

It
looked as though the salvors would lose their lives as well as their treasure
when the sails, which had been flapping idly, began to swell. A puff of wind
stirred their flag, and a steady breeze began to blow. It was none too soon.
The salvage craft started to gather way again and forge through the water.
Still the junks hung on. They were not going to relinquish their prize without
an effort.

The
pirates continued to chase the salvage craft right until sundown, when a
friendly darkness hid pursued from pursuers and enabled Captain Lodge to shake
off and lose the bloodthirsty Chinese pirates. In the end he managed to make
Shanghai in safety with the rich treasure of £40,000 aboard, thus bringing to a
happy ending one of the most exciting treasure-hunts ever known.

If
Ridyard had not worked quite so hard and grown quite so thirsty, and if Penk
had not gone to fetch that pail of water, the salvors would have remained in
ignorance of the approaching pirates and would have met a tragic death at their
hands.

That
lucky drink of water saved a fortune of £40,000.”

… Perhaps this also means there’s £10,000 of bullion (or whatever
today’s equivalent value would be) still out there somewhere beneath the waves?

The co-incidence of my stumbling across the deep-water demise and
amazing after-story of the Hamilla
Mitchell following on from my previous research seemed remarkable. I
couldn’t help wondering if the Williamsons had perhaps seen reports of the
ship’s loss and the subsequent adventure of its salvaging in the Shanghai
newspapers. My interest was piqued and so I decided to see if I could find
anything more on the story. Masters was writing some fifty-five years after the
event and I wondered what other, more contemporary, sources there might be. It
turns out that there are quite a few. Two of the most detailed (and readily
available) being TheBrisbane Courier(November 12th
1870) and TheCapricornian(June 11th 1898), from which I learnt that
the Hamilla Mitchell was lost in
August 1869, and the subsequent salvage operation was undertaken in March 1870 by
Messrs R. Ridyard and W. Penk of Liverpool, using state-of-the-art diving
equipment procured from a specialist company called Siebe & Gorman, Submarine Engineers and Sole Contractors to the Royal Navy, based at Denmark Street, London, and established in 1820. (An
account which mirrors quite closely the re-telling given in Masters’ book was
published in TheSan Francisco Call, December 26th 1910).

Yet – on closer inspection – the connection isn’t quite as neatly clear-cut
as it might at first seem. An entry in TheIllustrated London News published in
the month after the Hamilla Mitchell was
lost doesn’t quite tally to the ship described in the Introduction of Voyaging to China (Heath Cranton: 1936),the book in which Williamson’s travel
diary was published. TheIllustrated London News(September
25th 1869) states:

“The
British ship 'Hamilla Mitchell', belonging to Glasgow, outward bound from
London to Shanghai, has been wrecked on the Leuconna Rock, within 130 miles of
her destination, with a cargo valued at £150,000 and specie to the amount of
£50,000. The 'Hamilla Mitchell' was a first-class iron ship, of nearly 1000
tons, owned by Thomas Mitchell, of Glasgow, and was commanded by Captain
Branscombe. Lloyd's register describes her as having been built in Dundee* in
1864, under special survey. She sailed from Gravesend on April 5th. The date of
her loss is not mentioned, only the spot where it occurred, known as Leuconna
Hammocks, a cluster of rocks in lat. 30.25 N., long. 122.33 E., in the fairway
to the entrance to the river Yang-Tse-Kiang, and about 130 miles from Shanghai.
The crew appeared to have saved themselves by the ship's boats and reached the
port in safety.”

[The Lloyd's Register for 1869 actually gives Dumbarton as the place where the 'Hamilla Mitchell' was built, see here. Thanks to the anonymous reader who pointed out this anomaly in the quoted source.]

Voyaging
to China (1936) gives quite a different description of the ship as detailed
in the Lloyd’s Register for 1855:

So, it appears there were two ships
(of different type and size) named Hamilla
Mitchell serving the same shipping routes at around the same time. A
further hunt through contemporary newspapers indicates that as well as the
London-China route, the two ships also served as emigrant ships to Australia
and New Zealand. But if the younger, larger iron-hulled Hamilla Mitchell was the one lost near Shanghai, whose salvage
story sounds like something straight out of the pages of a Boy’s Own adventure magazine – what was the fate of the older,
smaller wooden ship named Hamilla
Mitchell which had brought the Williamsons to Shanghai some fifteen years
earlier?

Well, as always, there are hints
and echoes out there. A general sounding of the internet has also turned up the
suggestion of a third Hamilla Mitchell –
one pre-dating our particular vessel – of 145 tons that sank off the coast of
South Africa in 1844, as well as a few tantalising hints as to the possible end
of our Hamilla Mitchell. Her demise
was possibly just as dramatic – and indeed more gruesome and unhappy – than
that of the ship of the same name wrecked on the Leuconna Rock. Two separate leads
seem to suggest that our ship may have been lost around 1859 (see here and here).* A
recent, fleeting mention in The Korean Times (November 14th 2012) speculates that a ship of the
name Hamilla Mitchell was lost somewhere
off the coast of the Korean peninsula sometime before 1869, where its luckless surviving
crew were then brutally murdered.

Yet hearsay isn’t the kind of
source material to satisfy a historian. There are probably historical records
out there which might definitively answer the question (which now niggles to be
answered*). A proper ranging quest through the lists of the Lloyd’s Register may
well reveal the fate of the Hamilla
Mitchell of the Williamson’s journey of 1855. And so, like a loose thread
waiting to be tied off, until I get the time to salve the appropriate archives
in greater depth – my research file remains far from closed. Sometimes, these
tangents to our main research aims can become full fledged projects in
themselves – and that’s often the real joy of historical research. The past is a vast and
fascinating book full of obscure and forgotten footnotes just waiting to be
plumbed!

*Postscript: (March 18th, 2017) Combing the Lloyd's Register I've since found several references to the Hamilla Mitchell built in 1850 at Peterhead (540 tons): one, to the voyage taken by the Williamsons in 1855, see here; and another reference which shows the ship was still sailing in 1867-1868, see here.Lloyd's Register also shows the Hamilla Mitchell built in 1864 was lost in 1869 en route to India, see here.